Dying Words
by PrisonerPadfoot
Summary: Brief moments with the characters of Death Note. A series of unconnected drabbles occurring before, in, and after the manga timeline. NEWEST: Ryuk realizes he's bored out of his mind.
1. Shinigami Pie

Finding all the appropriate answers to Ryuuzaki's probing questions was a nerve-wracking ordeal. One slip-up and Ryuuzaki's suspicions of him being the first Kira could increase tenfold. Light couldn't make such a mistake.

What was even more nerve-wracking than Ryuuzaki's interrogation was Ryuk standing behind the detective and drooling over the dessert sitting on the table. Light watched in silent horror as Ryuk's tongue ran over his blue lips.

"Is that made of…..apples?" Ryuk asked, and Light tried to keep his face expressionless. The task became increasingly difficult as Ryuk began to lean further over Ryuuzaki's shoulder.

Ryuk's eyes lit up as Ryuuzaki stuck his fork into the pie, ripping himself off a piece. Light could foresee approaching disaster as Ryuk's hand drifted toward the table. If he could somehow catch Ryuk's attention before the shinigami did something stupid…

Ryuk's fingers were nearly in Ryuuzaki's plate, and Light couldn't contain himself anymore.

"Ryuk!" he said, trying to hide the name behind a cough.

Ryuuzaki looked up from his mouthful of pie. "Did you say something, Yagami-kun?"

"No," Light said, and prepared himself for the worst. He watched as Ryuk took the pie from the table and ate it, flinging the empty plate back upon the table.

The fork fell from Ryuuzaki's hand and the detective screamed. He fell out of his chair and stared into the place where the pie had seemingly disappeared into thin air.

Light buried his face in his hands, and Ryuk laughed at both of them.

"Interesting," Ryuuzaki said, and Light looked up. He was not happy to see that Ryuuzaki had picked himself up off the floor, his expression brightening. He pressed a finger to his lip as he so often did when he was thinking. "Perhaps it is true that shinigami only eat apples."


	2. Scarred

He had tried to sleep, but each time he rolled over on his left side the pain would wake him up again. He got up and navigated through the darkened motel room and into the bathroom. The switched on the light, casting himself in an ugly yellow glow. He stood before the mirror and slowly peeled off the gauze covering his eye.

He gently prodded the mangled flesh and his breath caught in his throat for a moment. The swelling had gone down considerably, but it was still tender to the touch. He could still couldn't open his eye properly and his vision was blurry. The damage continued from his face and down his neck, across his shoulder and over a good portion of his back. He moved his arm slightly, and the flesh felt oddly taut.

_Fuck._

He couldn't go to the hospital, it was too risky to check himself in even under a false name. He would just have to deal with it. He was lucky he hadn't lost his eye completely. Truth be told, he was lucky to even be alive at all.

Not that he was happy about it.

He hadn't accomplished anything by almost dying, and the cop, that fucking cop had figured out his real name somehow. He had looked right into his eyes and spelled out his name for him.

_Mihael Keehl. _

He was back to square one.

Mello slammed his fist into the mirror, cracking the thick glass. When he pulled his fist away, the crack was positioned over his reflection's ruined eye. Little drops of red fell from his fist into the porcelain sink.

He could not fail again.


	3. Wake Up Call

Being woken up by someone pouncing on you was not the most pleasant way to start the day, but he came to expect such enthusiasm from Misa. Besides, one look at her and he couldn't possibly be annoyed.

She was straddling him dressed in the barest of bedclothes. Even so early in the morning her smile was wide and bright. Her hair was already brushed and done up on either side of her head.

"Time to get up!" she sang, then clapped her hands together. Her eyes went wide and she laughed at him. "Oh! Look at your hair! So funny!"

She moved up his body to run her fingers through his hair. As she did so, he grabbed a handful of her backside. She giggled and slapped playfully at his hand, then bent down to kiss him.

_Regardless of whether or not Yagami-kun is Kira, if he catches us like this I surely will not be living very long._

L smiled.


	4. A Time to Die

She had decided that this night would be her last. And it would be his as well.

Rem stood behind the detective and quietly observed him. The other humans called him Ryuzaki, but Rem could see his true name clear as day, swirling above his head in crimson letters. He was sitting in front of a dozen or so monitors, reviewing the information upon them while simultaneously arranging the small pile of empty creamer cups on his desk into a pyramid. He fell the pyramid and started over again, then struck a few keys to change the display on the screens. Every now and again he would ask her a question about the Death Note, and Rem would choose her answers carefully.

He certainly had some of the strangest mannerisms Rem had ever observed in a human. Though he was an odd specimen, he did not look particularly threatening. Hunched over in his chair like he was, he looked almost childlike. That however, did not mean that Rem had any other choice but to take his life. If he were allowed to live, Misa would almost certainly be caught and charged with being Kira. This entire mess, the reason the detective had only a few more moments to live, the reason Misa was in so much danger, and the reason Rem herself was going to suffer, was all the fault of that despicable human Light Yagami. She could only hope that when it came time for Light Yagami to die, his death would be just as vile and cruel as he was.

Rem had no alternative, not if she wanted to ensure Misa's safety.

She was going to kill Ryuzaki, and in turn he was going to be the death of her.


	5. Snow Day

Mello grumbled under his breath as he scooped up another shovelful of snow and flung it off the path. He was up to his knees in the snow and his toes had gone numb almost an hour ago despite the protection of his leather boots and two pairs of socks. They had been working all morning, yet he felt like they were making absolutely no progress at all on the task at hand.

He stuck the shovel into the mound of snow at his side and wiped his damp bangs out of his eyes. Giving an exhausted sigh, he turned around to see how Near and Matt were fairing. His brow immediately darkened at the sight of them, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Matt was leaning on his shovel and playing with his Game Boy. It seemed that the only thing Near had managed to accomplish was building a snow fort right in the middle of the walkway, complete with turrets on its eastern and western flanks.

"Are you guys gonna fucking help me or not?" Mello raged, and the other boys briefly glanced at him before going back to what they were doing previously.

"Relax, Mello," Matt said, "It'll get done. Stick your head in the snow and _chill_."

Mello growled and pulled his shovel back out of the snow pile.

* * *

L sat curled up in the window seat of Roger's office. The older man was droning on and on, giving L an unenthusiastic status report on the progress of his protégés' studies. L was not listening to him. He was too busy watching said protégés as they worked on shoveling the walkway leading from the main hall and into the rectory. At least that's what they were supposed to be doing as punishment for their constant bickering during lessons. So far there had not been much accomplished between them. A few shovelfuls of snow and Matt had pulled his portable game system out of his back pocket, while Near had sat down and proceeded to build a snow castle.

It was awhile before Mello noticed that the other two boys were not helping him, and when he did it was evident that he was quite irate. L could not hear them, but he was sure there was a lot of yelling going on from the way Mello was waving his fists around. L was not too concerned about the situation until Mello pulled his shovel out of the snow. He had risen it over his shoulder and began trudging his way over to Near. L did not wait to see Mello destroy the snow castle's western turret. He unfurled himself from his seat, slipped on his shoes and pulled on his jacket, slinking out of the room. Even after he was gone Roger continued talking to him, unaware that the detective had left.

It was snowing again by the time L made it outside. As he got closer to the arguing trio, he saw that Near's snow fort was not faring well against Mello's onslaught. Covered in snow, it was almost impossible to see Near. If it were not for his black mittens, he would have been lost completely in the flurry. The boys didn't seem to notice him as he approached them. Waiting out Mello's next swing, L walked up behind him and stretched out his hand to put it on the boy's shoulder.

L didn't have enough time to react as Mello quickly rose up the shovel again, and Mello didn't hear the detective coming up behind him---

_Thwack!_

There was a soggy thud, and the three boys turned around to see L laying on his side on the snow.

"Holy shit," Mello said. His expression was that of a deer caught in the headlights. He dropped the shovel and kneeled down beside L, flipping him over onto his back. He was unconscious, all right.

"Jesus Mello, I didn't know you wanted to succeed him _that _badly," Matt quipped.

"Shut the fuck up, Matt! It was an accident! And it's all _his _fault!" Mello yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Near.

"You are the one that hit him," Near said dryly, twirling a lock of his hair.

"Near, you little bastard!" Mello said. He jumped to his feet and lunged at Near, but Matt caught him by the arms before he could reach him.

"What the hell, Matt?!" Mello yelled, flailing around in Matt's hold. He kicked back and drove his boot into Matt's groin.

"Mello, for fuck's sake!" Matt nearly choked, doubling over. Mello slipped out of his hold.

The fighting continued until L regained consciousness and somehow managed to get the situation under control.

From somewhere two floors up, Roger finally realized that L had left the room.


	6. A Taste of Blood

It took some effort, but eventually he was able to move his body. At least from the neck up.

He was sitting at the bottom of a blood-stained bathtub. His head was throbbing, and he couldn't remember how he had gotten there, or even where this ugly little room was located. The last he remembered he had stepped out onto the balcony of his hotel room, then everything went black.

He knew this had to be connected to his current case somehow, and the Wara Ningyo doll sitting in his lap only confirmed his suspicion. How he had been captured was still a mystery to him. If the murderer he had been using Naomi Misora to investigate had somehow found him…

It was ridiculous. There were only a handful of people in the entire world who knew what L looked like. There was Watari of course, then the boys he had been mentoring as his successors. Mello, Matt and Near were still young and living at Wammy's. Of the older boys, A had committed suicide a few years ago, and B…

B had left Wammy's after A died.

Perhaps he had run off to Los Angeles.

The door slowly opened, and L was left staring at a cheap copy of himself. The painted bags under his eyes ran down his cheek in ugly runnels. He carried a long knife in his bloodstained hands.

L had always known there was something crazy in Beyond Birthday's eyes, but not this crazy. B kneeled down beside him and still L couldn't move.

"I got you," B laughed, and took his mentor's face in his hands. When B kissed him, L tasted blood. Then there was the cold metal of B's knife pressing against his throat.

Still, he could not move.


	7. Crazy Genius

It took a brave man to tangle with the Mafia.

The punk standing in front of him was certainly not a man yet, and he looked like a bit of a queer to boot. He was dressed up in tight leathers and a feathery coat, a crucifix hanging from around his neck. If it wasn't for the evil smirk on his face, he could have passed for one of the showgirls down on the Strip. Rod laughed in the kid's face, and the rest of his boys joined in. The little punk laughed right back at them, and silence immediately fell on the room. Rod cracked his knuckles, but Mello didn't look scared in the least. Mello threw the sack he was carrying down onto the desk, and it landed there with a strange squishing sound that Rod didn't like at all. Rod looked up at the kid, and he motioned for Rod to open it.

Slowly, Rod peeled back the covering on Mello's strange offering.

Gasps erupted around the room, as well as the sound of Jose losing his lunch. Antonio Percozzi was a rival mob boss and one of the people Rod wanted dead most of all. Even Kira hadn't been able to track the bastard down. Yet there was his severed head, sitting pretty on Rod's desk with his bloated purple tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"I want to take down Kira and so do you," Mello said. "What do you say?"

Rod looked up at him with wide eyes. The kid was either crazy or a genius. Maybe both. Rod could definitely use someone like him.

"I think I got myself a new adviser," Rod said, and shook the little punk's hand.


	8. Red

Red.

It was the color of a single balloon that disappeared into the sky one summer's day, floating high above the heads of all the humans gathered at a long-ago festival.

It was the Cherry Blossom Festival in which Jealous first caught sight of Misa down in the human world. She was only a child then, just a delicate blossom herself, clinging to her mother's arm. Jealous had come to the viewing portal to write down a few humans' names in his note. He stayed there for hours, doing nothing but watching as she and her family went about their day. His death Note fell from his patchwork lap, landing forgotten in the sand at his side. His pen dangled limply between his stubby fingers. He barely noticed Rem as she came to kneel beside him.

They watched as Misa's father tied his daughter's balloon around her wrist so she wouldn't lose it. They watched Misa untie the balloon when her parents weren't looking, and they watched her cry as it floated away. A performance of traditional Japanese music put a small, serene smile back on Misa's face. It was one of the very few times Rem had seen Misa truly smile. The smiles she put on for the cameras later in her life were fake. There was something ugly in the way she would smile at Light. There was something infinitely more ugly in the way Light would smile in return.

Misa's parents were the next thing to float away from her. Their lives floated away in a river of spilled blood, right in front of Misa's eyes.

Red was color of the hat Misa wore on the day she was supposed to die. A pretty hat and a pretty dress. She would have made a lovely corpse if Jealous had not sacrificed himself for her. Rem watched in helpless horror as her friend crumbled before her eyes.

She imagined she felt the way Misa must have felt as she watched her parent's lives fall away from her.

It was for Jealous' sake that Rem gave Misa the Death Note. She would watch over the girl and make sure her friend's sacrifice was not in vain, and perhaps the girl could be happy again. Misa didn't seem to care much about Jealous' sacrifice, but Rem did not expect her to. Of course, she also had not quite expected Misa to openly express a desire to see Rem die in the same way.

Rem hadn't planned on loving the girl as much as Jealous himself had.

Red reminded Rem of the human she despised most of all.

It was the color of the tie Light always wore. If it had not been a law that shinigami could not directly harm any human, and had it not meant Misa's unhappiness, Rem would have taken pleasure in wrapping that tie around his neck and hanging him up by it.

It was the color of blood. Light Yagami had spilled the blood of thousands of humans, but none of those insignificant lives mattered to Rem. Misa's life was the only one she cared about, and she knew that Light would have done away with Misa a long time ago if she had not threatened his life. He cared nothing for Misa. To him, she was just a means to an end. Light had made Misa kill again so Rem would have no choice but to kill the one they called Ryuzaki. The detective would die, and so would she. Light was trying to kill two birds with one stone.

No blood would be spilled when Light led Rem to her own death. All that would be left was a pile of sand, and her Death Note. Rem feared the ways Light might manipulate Misa after she was dead. But if she did not act, Misa could face death. Light was Misa's world, her God and her damnation both. For a reason Rem would never understand, Light made Misa happy.

Sacrificing her life for his cause was the only thing Misa could do to make her Light happy.

Red reminded Rem of the man that would be the death of her.

It was the color of the strawberry Ryuzaki had pinched between his thumb and forefinger. If you looked at it the right way, the fruit almost resembled a human heart. Little did Ryuzaki know that it would be Rem who would stop his heart. Rem may have been a shinigami, but she was more emotive and compassionate than most. Ryuzaki was a young man, and had probably not yet seen his thirtieth year. Rem had never taken the life of someone so young. Nevertheless, it had to be done. He would be just another dead human.

Red reminded Rem of the shinigami Ryuk. His protuberant red eyes had been glistening with amusement when she first expressed her affection for Misa. Between bites of his juicy red apple, he had told her that shinigami shouldn't have such feelings. Perhaps he was right.

Red was the color of the ink that poured from Rem's pen as she wrote down the last two lives she would ever claim. She tried to ignore the immense pain as her body crumbled into dust. Instead, she thought of serene things. A little blond-haired girl in a red kimono with a balloon tied around her wrist. The red balloon drifted off into the sky, and Rem followed after it. She lost herself in the clouds, and there was only blackness beyond them.

Blackness.

As long as it wasn't red.


	9. Boredom

**Originally posted to LJ on April 9th, 2010.  
**

* * *

A king of skulls. A ten. A nine of skulls. Ryuk was overcome by a strange feeling of déjà vu. He was certain he had been dealt this same exact hand yesterday. Or perhaps it was the day before. Who could tell? It wasn't as though the shinigami realm ever changed. Day never gave way to night. The sun never fell and the stars never rose. It was an endless, unchanging landscape shrouded in dust, filth that arose from the earth as it slowly decayed and fell to pieces.

Ryuk growled in frustration and threw down his cards. He looked around the circle at his fellow shinigami. Zellogi, Gook, Kinddara…None of them seemed to notice that he had thrown down his hand. They all stared down at their cards, moving little. They were all perfectly content to spend the rest of eternity sitting in a circle and gambling. In fact, Ryuk was sure he had not seen Gook move from his place in the circle in close to a hundred years. Every few years, that was all. They would get up to write down a few names in their death notes and sit back down again. But for what were they writing? To preserve their pointless lives for no other reason than the fear of death?

The pointlessness to their existence, the unyielding monotony of the shinigami realm…there had to be something more. Something less _boring_. Ryuk rose from his place in the circle and started to walk away.

"You're folding, Ryuk?" Zellogi finally asked. "Looks like you had a decent hand."

"I just remembered," Ryuk said. "I lost my Death Note. I'm going to ask the Old Man for another one."

By the time Zellogi responded, Ryuk was far out of earshot. "Lost it? But I just saw you writing in it…"


End file.
